


trillium

by womaninthewindow



Category: Slender Man Mythos, Stan Frederick
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Identity, Trans Male Character, canon-typical stan feeling bad for himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 08:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womaninthewindow/pseuds/womaninthewindow
Summary: three names, none of them belong to him.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	trillium

1.

He’s always liked the name Evan. It’s common, but not generic. Unassuming. Undeniably masculine. He had spend many nights in his early youth mulling over the perfect name. Every time it left his mouth he knew it was the right one.

He had to tell Erik first. It’s one of the few memories from his childhood that still shine bright in his mind. Their parents had been out shopping and he, always eager to be the dependable older sibling, was in charge. Erik sat at the kitchen table with various half drawings splayed out around him. Erik’s legs swayed back and forth, not tall enough for his feet to hit the ground. 

He hovered above his baby brother, trying not to let his excitement show. Oh, what are you drawing? Can I see? Hey, what if I was your brother instead?

Erik looked up from the smudges of blue marker staining his finger tips. His eyebrows furrowed at the question, he looked down to his drawing and then back up

“What do I call you?” Erik spoke each word slowly. 

“How about Evan?” He had suggested, trying to keep his voice at a normal pitch. Erik had always been so intelligent for his age. Just shy of six years old, but he knew he would understand. 

“Evan.” Erik repeated. It was only the first time he'd spoken the name and it already felt familiar, like home. 

“Yeah!” He nodded, letting the joy overtake him. "Because, then we’d both have names that start with E. Right?” 

Erik had beamed at that, sharing in the eagerness over their new commonality. He spun himself dizzy picturing how he would tell his parents next. _Evan._ He mouthed it to himself, memorizing the way it felt on his tongue. _Evan. Evan._

2.

 _WeMustCollect._ It’s straightforward. No need to beat around with subtlety where they’re going. It’s a mouthful too, a declaration rather than an identification. We Must Collect. It’s horribly stupid, in hindsight, but Connor had liked the name, giddy with their plans for the future. He stifles a laugh when he logs onto their shared Twitter account to type up a new menacing threat to himself. 

_@StanFrederick0 There is not much time left._

It’s cute, almost. Some of their sharper watchers have picked up that WeMustCollect doesn’t always talk the same-- and they're _all_ suspicious of Connor-- but none of them have put the final piece together yet. He can’t wait to see what they’re gonna do when WeMustCollect shows off it’s big reveal. He giggles into his hand and a Twitter notification pops up.

_@WeMustCollect what do you want wmc!! leave stan ALONE_

He rolls his eyes, his head lulling with it. Do they think they're helping? Do they think any of them could help him now? He rests his head back and smiles at the ceiling. The light from his screen blinks to reveal a dark outline hiding on the other side of the room.

"There's no Stan here." He says out loud to the other shadows clawing across the basement walls. 

3\. 

Stan is a terrible name. It doesn’t roll off the lips easy like Evan does. It doesn’t hold the same misguided determination. People have to sneer when they say it. _Stan._ He never would have chosen it for himself if he didn’t have to. 

It’s a six hour drive from his home to Vermont, where today’s new and deeply dissatisfied client lived. Two migraines, one shouting match, and one stop off the road to spit up the blood in his mouth later, he finally gets home. Susan should be back soon, but he sulks off to their shared bedroom. He can eat in the morning. Or not. 

Right now, he wants to sleep. He manages to kick off his socks before getting too frustrated and crawling under the blankets fully clothed. He doesn’t fall asleep, because that would be too kind, but floats between consciousness. He’s dimly aware of the front door opening, and the kitchen lights flickering on. A few minutes later, and a light pattering of footsteps follows into their bedroom. She steps in quiet like a dancer. 

“Are you still awake?” Susan prods, quiet enough to not rouse him. He doesn’t roll over. It’s a bad night, she’ll understand, like she always does. Susan pulls the blanket over him, and brushes a lock of hair off his forehead.

“Goodnight, Evan.” 

_Stan._ Something deep inside him corrects. _Stan._

**Author's Note:**

> *comes out as trans to a 5 year old* yeah i knew you'd get it


End file.
